


The Pro is a Con

by shihadchick



Category: due South
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-31
Updated: 2010-01-31
Packaged: 2017-10-06 21:11:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shihadchick/pseuds/shihadchick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fraser and Ray take on a world-famous escape artist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Pro is a Con

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eledhwenlin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eledhwenlin/gifts).



> With thanks to Melissa2u for a readthrough outside her own fandoms.

Arresting a world-famous escape artist had, excuse the phrase, its pros and cons.  The fact that the pro was a con was sort of one of the biggies, the fact there was no way – barring the outbreak of war or a beer explosion on the freeway – that the arrest wasn't going to make the six o'clock news (which was also probably going to put Welsh's blood pressure somewhere between "skyrocketing" and "heading out of Cape Canaveral at speed, sir") wasn't exactly great for Ray's peace of mind and sense of professional well-being. And the fact he was soaking wet andwearing far more skin-tight clothing (with _spangles_, he mused with disgust, dripping sullenly onto the sandy ground) than any self-respecting cop, man or, er, '_Italian_' ever would wasn't going to be winning him any prizes either.

Most grating of all, though, was the fact he was getting a damned critique on his handcuffing procedures.

"You're not supposed to do it _that_ way," grumbled the muck-covered illusionist, twisting his hands a little 'helpfully', which had the net effect of putting Ray's knee even more firmly into the small of his back, making not only for effective restraint technique but also shutting the guy up for all of seven seconds.

"Oh, and I suppose you went to the academy and learned that for yourself, then?"  Ray snorted cynically, shifted the cuffs just enough to make sure the guy wouldn't be able to get out of them in less than ten seconds.  Okay, it'd probably take him twenty, but that was definitely enough time to either sic Dief on him or just shoot him in the leg, depending on how much more he pissed Ray off while they were waiting for the backup cars to arrive.

The silence was broken only by the snap of flashbulb photography (and Ray added the Trib to his mental tally of papers he was never going to be able to buy again)  and Fraser clearing his throat.  Which, given context, had no _right_ to make Ray anywhere near so uncomfortable as it did.  He was blaming the pants. He was _totally_ blaming the pants.

"Ray, I do believe that what Mr Peters is suggesting is that you might benefit from a refresher course." Because Fraser was nobody's fool and just as quick as anyone at reading the glint in Ray's eyes that said he'd had it up to _here_ with smart-asses for the day, especially given there he was, undercover, with glitter, and there was Fraser all neat, tidy and cleanly Canadian.  Let he who did not roll through unmentionable parts of a three-ring circus take a rain check on casting the first stone, and all that.

The Duck boys showed up not too long after that, siren screaming all the way up to the door of the tent which was, Ray figured, just a little excessive, but they had to get their attention somehow, if they weren't going to be actually solving crimes. And apparently they were so keen to be involved in arresting such a vital cog in the Pekingese Dolphin cabal that they didn't even have time to stop and rib Ray about his outfit.  He hoped that meant they hadn't actually noticed, but figured it was more a case of them needing some privacy to discuss just which insult exactly was going to be the most irritating.  Their partnership was uncanny like that.  Though he did manage to file away for future blackmail purposes the fact that he'd definitely heard Dewey asking Peters for an autograph "after we've fingerprinted you of course."  Figured.

And then it was all over bar the paperwork and Ray out one set of his newest cuffs, dusting himself off and changing back into street clothes before walking out of the men's room and full into Fraser, who was tugging at his collar and looking slightly overdone after all.

"Can I do something for ya, Fraser?"

Twisting the end of the lanyard around his index finger and looking- looking what, Ray realised, belatedly, was the Fraser-version of coy.  And didn't _that_ figure, too?

"I believe we were discussing your restraint procedures, Ray?"

And straight-faced, straight-laced, not-so-straight-after-all Constable Benton Fraser led his suspiciously pink Chicago PD partner inside to examine the former main attraction's living quarters for evidence.

The argument over who got to tell Welsh just exactly how they found out that half the loot was stashed in the false bottom of the trunk lasted nearly as long as the sex had, and in fact, overlapped significantly.


End file.
